the ants

a colony of ants
has invaded our garden,
built it’s cities, its civilization,
beneath our rotting floorboards,
between the cracks in the croncrete’s crumbling foundations and
faulty electric cables.
It is an insect revolution -
no noise, rhetoric, armies,
treason, betrayal -
silent and insidious
they have forged their nation in human rot

you

you speak love
when you sleep,
when I slipstumble
into bed
and wrap myself around you:
brush you hair,
kiss your neck
squeeze your tit

monkey

We are the monkey
fragile and sad
gathering together;
huddling in the shadow of numbers
squawking at tresspassers
slashing our nimble hands
stealthily manouvering
manipulating
begging
huddling in the shadow of numbers
                                                                             1997

The Burning Man

the burning man
began
to walk East
at peace
as the sky began to turn
late afternoon burn
burn
the burning man
burn
Not West -
the sun behind
blind
unkind:
the burning man
walked East
and the salt in his wounds
reflected the moon’s slow rising -
prostelising and
memorising
the burning man walked East
at peace
and the obscene twitter of the autumn nests
lingered in his ears
                               august 2000